


If It Would Be Okay

by WhumpTown



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mando is a Good Dad, PTSD, spacedad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22028836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpTown/pseuds/WhumpTown
Summary: AU:Dyn is a war veteran who works all day to support his kid. He lives in a huge apartment complex with an array of complicated people. His kid plays all day with Winta and he is falling in love with Omera, Winta's mother. It's a disaster
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Winta (Star Wars), Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Omera & Winta (Star Wars), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Winta (Star Wars), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 132





	If It Would Be Okay

Winta waves from the balcony of his porch and upon a second glance he sees his silly little idiot of a son sticking his head between the bars so he can wave down too. He can hear him babbling, soft muffled ‘dada’. Mando tries not to grin too stupidly over how cute it is. He’s got a reputation to obtain and grinning like a madman certainly is not going to help it.

“Thank God,” Cara looks as frazzled as she always does when he pulls longer shifts. “I thought you’d never come home.” He’s careful to lock the door behind himself, hanging his coat up, and even kicking his shoes off. He’d read in a parenting book that if he wanted to kid to do something the best way to teach him was by first doing it himself. 

“D!” Winta comes to a stuttering halt, the kid coming in hot and right on her heels. Except Winta manages to stop herself, the kid smacks into Mando’s legs. He just grins up at Mando, arms thrown around his legs. Winta is more pressed for his attention, she shifts her weight nimbly between her feet. It takes a second of his eye contact before she lets out a jumbled sentence.

It’s been a long day, a bad day. One that began with a migraine that’s left him shaky and weak all day. He couldn’t call off so he went to work with an upset stomach and head that felt like it would explode if he didn’t bash it in first. Now, Winta’s hyper and his head can’t take it. “What?” His voice is a gravel of nerves and thankfully, Winta doesn’t take it personally.

She just keeps smiling and takes in a deep breath as she prepares to repeat herself. Thankfully, this time much slower. “Mom is cooking dinner and she said you could come but it won’t be ready until later so can we go play outside if I promise we won’t go past the mailboxes? Cause I do promise. Pinky promise.” She smiles hopefully up at him, big hopeful brown eyes. 

The kid tugs at his pants, smiling and looking hopeful too. 

“I don’t-”

Cara steps into the living room, a bag over her shoulder. “Go take a shower, D.” She throws the bag down by the door and motions for the kids to get their shoes by the door. “I’ll watch the little freak and Winta.” She winks at both the kids and they smile up at him until he begrudgingly gives them a small nod. 

He needs a shower anyhow. 

He gets caught in the mirror. He’s nearly undressed, standing in his boxers when his eyes catch his own reflection. A scarred, mutilated face stares back at him. A thin, jagged scar that runs from his left temple, through his right eyebrow, and around his eye. Like a mask, Cara once said, a domino mask. After he got the scar, the kid was terrified of him. He was just shy of five months when Mando left for his deployment to Iraq. Only to come back to find his entire life in shambles. 

The kid’s mother had overdosed on drugs Mando wasn’t aware she was doing, leaving him the sole parent of a one-year-old. A one-year-old that wanted his mother and not his mutilated and fucked up father. The scars never went away and Mando can play it off all he wants, the post-traumatic stress hasn’t either. 

“Dyn?” He’s trembling in front of the mirror when Omera opens the door. “Come here,” she pulls his eyes away, pulling his much larger body against hers. It suddenly occurs to him how hard it was to breathe, his head feels like it might explode. “Shh,” she still his body against hers, easing the muscles in his neck until his headrest in the crest of her neck. “You need to shower before you come up.” 

It makes the breath in his lungs catch in the best way. He can’t help but smile at her well-stated words, the hand she’s sneaking into his hair. The other playfully snaps his boxer’s against his stomach. “I think Winta would notice if we both come out of here soaking wet.”

Omera laughs softly, pulling away from their hug to catch his lips with her own. They’re dating but in that way adults with kids do. He’s in his forties and to call Omera, a woman who lost her husband to the same war that nearly killed him, with a child twice the age of his own… to call what they do being girlfriend and boyfriend seems childish. Still, Winta doesn’t need to know that the sound she heard last week wasn’t Omera sleepily knocking over her lamp but really Dyn smacking his head on the headboard when things got a little too heated. 

“Kuiil is buying us an extra five or so minutes,” Omera informs him, biting his ear. Her hand going back to the waistband of his boxers.

He tries not to flinch. To give her the wrong idea. “W-What…” Her hands stop moving and she waits for him to struggle through his words. “I-I can’t…” It’s a weak omission but she catches his lips in the most surprising way. She guides her hand to his cheekbone and runs her thumb over the thick scar that rests there. 

She smiles at him. “Get in the shower with me, silly man.” She begins to unbutton her shirt, catching his confused eyes. She rolls her eyes,” go on, Dyn. I’ll be right behind me but if you stare at my breast the entire time I will kick your ass.”

He smiles softly, truly believing her. He turns the shower on and kicks his boxers off. Stepping in, he can feel the relief washing over him. He stands under the warm spray, his muscles relaxing and the sledgehammers chipping away at his brain slowing. Omera’s cold hand on his hip as she steps in startles him for only a moment. The rest of her body is warm as she leans against him. 

“You bought conditioner.” They’d done this once before and made the mistake of doing it at his apartment. Omera wasn’t entirely satisfied with her stiff, shampoo washed hair. That Friday when he went for groceries he picked up a bottle. Cara mercilessly teased him when he called and asked what type he should buy. There were so many smells and brand and he had no clue what to do.

His effort is meant with a soft kiss, tender and loving. 

She washes his hair. Her nails drag across his scalp, the pads of her fingers nearly lulling him to sleep. He’s compliant as her hands wash the shampoo out of his hair. When she nudges him aside, he leans heavily against the cool tile. Watching her wash her own hair through half-lidded eyes as his temple rest. 

He’s just going through the motions as she shuts the shower off.

“Stay here,” she catches his lips with her own, guiding him to sit on the toilet lid. “I’ll be right back. I’ll grab you some clean clothes.” She’s got his towel.

He sits naked on the toilet lid, shoulders shaking with cold. It feels like forever and it very well may be a significant time that passes. When Omera comes back, she's fully clothed. Her hair is tied back in a messy bun and she smiles at him when she throws her wet towel and clothes in at him. She’s gone before he can utter a thank you.

He’s halfway into a pair of boxers when she pops her head back in. “Hey,” her cheeks are red, flustered and he can’t tell why. He slides his boxers over his hips and waits for her to finish her sentence. She glances behind her and comes into the bathroom. She kisses him, her hands on both sides of his head. It steals his breath and his hands mirror hers, his fingers tangled in her long brown hair.

She pulls away just as his lungs began to burn. She looks between his eyes, smiling at his confusion. “I love you.” She leaves again, tearing away from him with a loud, happy laugh. He can hear her as she runs out of his apartment. Whooping still as she climbs the stairs.

He’s filled with love too. His fingers tingle as he slides on a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. Meaningless clothes that now make him feel wanted, valued. They’re warm. His chest full. As he comes out of the bathroom, to a silent and empty apartment, it's still there. Because she was here. RIght where he was standing. Not right now but at some point.

“Dyn,” Kuiil greets him at the door, a plate of food in his hand. He's on his way out, back to his own apartment. “How good of you to finally join us.” The old man steps out of Dyn’s way, allowing him to pass into the house. Omera’s apartment is lived in, it’s seen love. Lamps light the way to the kitchen, a rug in the hall kicked askew, and the table by the wall that sits crooked from age. 

He follows the scent of tacos to the kitchen. He stops before he gets there, basking in the sight of the found family before him. Adika and Winta are engaged in what appears to be an argument, despite his son’s considerable speech delay. Omera flicks Winta atop the head and his son snickers. Winta flicks his head and he stops. They scowl at each other before bursting into laughter.

Omera shoots them both mock glares. They smile at her but they do turn back to their food. 

After a moment, Dyn joins them.

“Hey, D.” Winta smiles when he sits down beside her. He reaches over and jostles the hair atop her head, earning him a chuckle. Adika copies his action, only able to do it to the side of Winta’s head. She smiles down at him anyways and does the same to him.

“Mommy?” Winta is kicking her legs, she’s kicked Dyn’s knee twice. He finds he doesn’t mind it all that much. Each time her socked foot hits him she makes the funniest face as an apology. “Can me and Adika watch cartoons?”

While Winta has destroyed her taco, leaving just one to two pieces of lettuce on her plate, Adika has eaten nearly nothing. It makes him frustrated but at least the kid is munching happily at lettuce. 

Omera, bless her soul, hums thoughtfully for a moment. She clicks her tongue,” why don’t you go pick out a movie? I think Adika might need another minute?” She glances at Dyn as she speaks and smiles as he melts at her fantastic idea. 

Winta jumps up,” no problem!” She’s moves from the table and Omera calls her back, making one of those motherly faces that says a hundred things. It’s a reminder to take her plate, not to run, and something Dyn can’t fully understand. Luckily, neither can Winta.

“Remember what I said…” Winta understands this and Dyn’s body feels unusually warm when Winta glances at him. Because then he understands. Which raises so many questions. At what point in their relationship had Omera warned Winta about… him. About war and nightmares and PTSD? Had she told her daughter about the things she saw?

His hands trembling in the dark as he searches for the gun under his pillow, haunted screaming in his ears. The panic attacks that wear his body down for hours as they creep into his vision, which leaves him trembling and gasping on the floor. The scars on his arms, back, legs, and… and the awful stretch of horror forever engraved on his face.

“D!” He snaps from his own mind. Omera is talking softly to his son, coaching him along to eat another bite of his taco. His brain takes a moment, his hands trembling, and heart racing. “D,” it’s Winta, a green movie gripped in her hands. She hands it to him grinning,” can help me?”

Before Omera can say anything, he’s already leaving to help. 

He’s thankful for Winta’s lack of remark about his hands. Then again, perhaps her mother warned her… how’s he to know?

“Turn the volume down and get on up here,” Omera appears from the kitchen, Adika on her hip. She settles on the couch, moving the kid to her lap and letting him crawl until his head is on her shoulder. Winta takes only a moment to click the right buttons. She crawls onto the couch near her mother, leaving nearly half a couch for Dyn to sit on.

He sits, eyes glued to the floor. His mind is going crazy. 

Suddenly there’s a warmth at his side. The other three have spread out more. Omera has Adika sleeping, the faint rocking gone. Her feet are curled up under her, tangled with Winta’s. Winta is leaning against him, half asleep as he eyes watch the screen.  
He watches them. The tightness in his chest calming as Omera leans back against the arm he has stretched across the back of the couch. Little Winta nestles into Dyn’s side, further snuggling into the warmth of his body. “D?” One of her hands is gripping his shirt, her head heavy on his thigh. “Do you… Do you love my mom?”

He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. Omera said she wouldn’t lie to Winta about them, that her daughter is a brilliant child and deserved more than lies. Of course, he couldn’t argue that. Winta is incredibly smart, intuitive. He’d sat down and showed her how to make a fire once. He knew she was a fast learner.

He sighs, deciding it’s better to tell her the truth. He runs a hand through her hair and she looks up at him. Waiting patiently for him to put the words together. He decides on,” would you be okay with that? If I loved your mom?” 

They both glance at Omera and the kid. Winta smiles and nods her head. She sits up, enough to curl her legs under her little body and remove her head from his lap. She twists and faces him on the couch,” but… only… Can I love Adika and…” She frowns uncertainty, lacking her previous courage. 

He understands well enough. Her eyes no longer making eye contact with him. She wants to know if she can love his son and… and if she can love him. It makes his chest tight, unexplainably so. In a way, he’s only felt with his son. So he nods, even if tears are swelling in his eyes. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

She grins, tears in her own eyes and throws her arms around his chest. After a moment’s hesitation, he hugs her back. Wraps her in his arms, it goes unsaid but he already loves her. Loves their found family. Cara across the hall and Kuiil next door. He loves Omera and Adika and… he presses a kiss to the top of Winta’s head.


End file.
